No (Place Like) Home
by leaysaye
Summary: Arriving in Alexandria the group starts finding their place in the community, but not everybody is finding that easy. Written largely before the group arrives in Alexandria, so it's a bit of an AU. Rick/Daryl, slash
1. Chapter 1

Rick's head hurt. That was the first sensation he was aware of. And he remembered, dimly, from a time before all this shit went down, that being woken by your head hurting could only mean one thing.

But why would he have been drinking last night? And then the memories came back, and he opened his eyes. He was lying in a bed, a real bed. There were sheets on it and everything. Sure, the room he could now see in the early morning sunlight might need some dusting, and the windows were none too clean. But there was a quiet outside in the street that he could hardly recall experiencing before. And it came to him.

They were safe. All of them.

Rick sat up and rubbed his eyes. He could see his pants and cotton shirt lying in a heap on the floor at the bottom of the bed. He retrieved the pants and pulled them on. Another strange sensation. All his clothes were clean. No, better, they were brand new.

Aaron had sent round people in the late afternoon yesterday who had brought him clothing, toiletries and food. They had also brought diapers and baby things for Judith, and clothes for Carl. He thought he saw some comic books and DVDs in Carl's pile, too.

And then Rick remembered the other wonderful things they had enjoyed yesterday: Electricity, and properly cooked food. Hot showers. Judith had had more of that apple sauce, and loved it.

Those thoughts got Rick off the bed. He had just remembered that his bedroom (his!) had an en-suite. He went in there now and turned on the light. Right across from the door was the sink, with a vanity cabinet above, and Rick could see himself in the mirror. He thoughtfully stroked his beard, then, making up his mind, purposefully strode into the room and started rummaging in the cabinets. Finally, from a drawer under the sink, he extracted an electric razor.

He looked at his reflection again. The face in the mirror suddenly looked wild to him, like an animal. He had agreed to come here, even though he had had this intuition that it was a bad idea. He was so glad his intuition had turned out, for the moment at least, to be wrong. If they were indeed given this fresh start, then, Rick decided, he'd do it properly. And for that, this beard had to go.

 _Shortly after arriving in Alexandria Aaron had introduced them first to a guy called Tom, who shook everyone's hand and wrote their names on a clipboard. "I am the quartermaster, I guess. Or maybe I'm in real estate, but I can't be very good at it, I haven't made my fortune yet."_

 _Nobody in their group had smiled at this, but Tom took this in his stride. He'd probably dealt with many groups like theirs, and just continued with his speech._

 _"Each of you will be given a new home. We're still a small community, and lots of houses are empty. The reason they ask you to liaise with me is because I know what's available. Also, we need to keep track of where people are living. You know for… emergencies and so on, and so we can keep on top of the headcount." He looked at them all inquisitively. "Have you discussed preferences for your… living arrangements yet?"_

 _Carol spoke first. "We have, actually." She indicated Michonne, Sasha and Tara. "We girls wouldn't mind sharing. We could do with some peaceful domesticity, and a tidy house, for a while."_

 _Tom smiled at Carol. "I think I've got just the thing for you. Oh yeah, I forgot," he addressed them all. "We try to house new groups as close together as possible. Unless anyone has any, err… objections?" If anyone did, nobody raised them._

 _Abraham stepped forward. "Me an' Rosita here, we'd appreciate if we could be housed together." Rosita rolled her eyes. "You sound like you're expecting to be assigned a bunk in the barracks, Sergeant Ford." She nudged Abraham and looked meaningfully at Eugene. Abraham cleared his throat. "Yes, can we kindly request an abode large enough to accommodate our friend Eugene here, too."_

 _Gabriel spoke next. "I talked with some people from the church earlier. They said they could use my help. Noah here," he put a hand on the boy's arm "said he'd like to help, too. They have offered us places in their dormitories."_

 _Tom nodded and made a note. "Next?"_

 _Glenn said, "Maggie, my wife, and I would like to have a place together if possible?" Maggie beamed at Glenn and took his hand. "Of course it's possible," nodded Tom. "We have a few condos for couples. Would that suit? Only, the houses are mostly pretty big and we don't want to waste space, even if we're still not at capacity." Maggie smiled at him. "Sounds great!"_

 _Tom looked at Rick next. "And that leaves you, yes?" Rick nodded. "My son Carl, Judith here, and me." Tom made another note. "That'll fit nicely. Now," he put down his clipboard "you will be shown your new homes. If you," he indicated Rick, Carol and her party, and Abraham, Rosita and Eugene "would come with me. My colleague Sonja here will take Maggie and Glenn. The condos are in a different part of the community, but I promise, it isn't very far."_

 _They started trooping out of Tom's office. "Listen, everyone," Rick raised his voice slightly. "Let's meet at Carl's, Judith's and my new place tonight at seven, for a little celebration. I think we've earned it." There was agreement all around. Rick said to Glenn and Maggie, "I am sure Tom here can give you directions to the house?" He looked at Tom, who nodded. "And maybe the rest of us can go to our place first? Then the others know where it is. And I need to put down Judith for a nap soon, anyway."_

 _Tom looked around. "Right then, follow me."_

 _Rick had noticed that Daryl had been skulking at the back of the group throughout the proceedings, and that he hadn't spoken up to be given a place to stay. For now, Rick said nothing. He had some idea what was going on in Daryl's head, and he'd deal with that later._

On his way down the stairs Rick marveled again at the quiet and the cleanliness of this house. His house… it was still hard to fathom. He had paused at Carl's door but hadn't heard a sound. He'd let the boy sleep as long as he liked today. When had any of them been able to do that last?

Judith was also still in her crib in Rick's bedroom. She'd been out like a light last night and hadn't stirred now when Rick had carefully replaced the blanket she had kicked off during the night. There had been a baby phone with the things the Alexandria people had brought them last night, and Rick was carrying the receiver with him down the stairs. It felt strange, leaving his baby out of reach, but Rick hadn't had the heart to wake her. And if he'd really decided to give this place a go he had to lay off the paranoia sooner or later.

At the foot of the stairs Rick came to a stop. He couldn't suppress a grin at the sight that met him.

Daryl was sprawled on the sofa, fully dressed. He hadn't even taken off his shoes. That made Rick's grin vanish. Apparently he wasn't the only one who still didn't trust the peace entirely. Deciding to let Daryl sleep it off Rick continued quietly to the kitchen.

On his way he noticed the empty whisky bottle on the floor next to Daryl's hand. Rick remembered that it had been a new bottle last night, and he didn't remember Daryl sharing it with anyone. As was his wont the man had kept his distance from the others all evening, and even though Rick had been meaning to have a word with him he hadn't gotten round to it.

After dinner Daryl had disappeared from the house but Rick could see him though the open door whenever someone had come or gone, pacing on the veranda. Rick had had sympathy with what was going on in that shaggy head, but it had also made him a little sad that one of their number wasn't getting much enjoyment out of the evening. Rick was glad that Daryl had at least decided to stick close.

Rick rummaged through the cupboards for mugs, creamer and sugar. The Alexandrians had also brought coffee, real coffee. It was probably stale as hell, but it would be a huge treat nonetheless. He also found a French press. Lori used to have one of these, and Rick had always thought that was such a girl way to make coffee. Now he was glad for it, and he was glad for the nice memories of Lori it brought.

Rick filled the kettle from the tab and placed it on the gas stove. This normal, everyday ritual filled him with calm. Maybe things would be all right.

He was just pouring the boiling water onto the coffee when there came a small bump from the living room, and a few seconds later Daryl appeared from behind the sofa and walked over into the open plan kitchen area.

"Morning. Coffee?"

Daryl was rubbing his face with both hands. Rick knew the man hadn't had a shower the other day, and he looked a real mess, not helped by that bottle of bourbon. Rick didn't mind, though, they'd been through too much together to feel bothered about these things.

"Yeah, thanks. I'll just go and have a piss, first." Daryl turned towards the front door and took two steps, then seemed to remember where they were and turned toward the downstairs bathroom.

"Sorry…" Daryl grunted in passing.

Rick chuckled. "Old habits die hard, eh?"

When Daryl reappeared he made a beeline for the coffee mug Rick had placed on the counter. He took the mug in both hands and inhaled the scent of the milky liquid. "Hmm... Only thing I miss about civilization is coffee."

Rick made an assertive noise. "How's the head?"

Daryl grunted. "That last bit o' whiskey must've been off. Have had worse, tho'."

He blew on his coffee and took a careful sip. His eyes close slowly in obvious appreciation. Rick realized he was staring at his friend and quickly looked away.

Instead he turned around to fill up the coffeemaker again. He could drink this all day. Then he started opening cupboards again, looking for the cereal he knew had been stowed there yesterday by the women who brought the supplies. He hesitated a moment before turning around, holding a Cheerios box.

"Why didn't you speak up yesterday, when they allocated us our places?" Rick half glanced over his shoulder and caught Daryl's shrug from the corner of one eye.

"Dunno if I wanna be put in some fuckin' condo, or share some place with no fuckin' strangers. Reckon I can pitch a tent somewhere, more m' style."

Rick could tell there was more to it, but Daryl wouldn't voice those thoughts. All the others had known what they wanted, had made plans. Daryl's life had never been organized by anybody, including himself, and while he hadn't expected to be asked by any of the others if he wanted to share with them he must have suddenly felt like an outsider again.

Rick turned around fully now. "That's a shame. I was hoping you'd stay here, with us."

Daryl looked up. Rick couldn't read the expression in his eyes because the other man quickly looked away again, but he thought he saw hope there. However, Daryl's voice sounded gruff, almost unfriendly, when he finally spoke.

"Wha' for?"

Rick stepped closer to the counter where Daryl stood looking uncomfortable.

"Well, I'll need help looking after Judith, and I have a feeling Carl will turn out to be a handful if we give him half a chance. 'sides, I got used to having you around."

Daryl stood unusually still, like he was expecting that if he moved, this moment would evaporate like a dream. Finally, looking as if bracing himself, he glanced back at Rick, who held his gaze.

"Do you mean it?" Daryl's voice sounded rough.

"Course I do. Why wouldn't I? This," Rick indicated their surroundings, "means nothing. You're my brother, and I trust you with my life. I trust you with my kids."

Daryl was spared an answer by a knock on the front door.

Rick pushed himself off the counter and walked over to the door. He had locked and bolted it last night. No reason to get sloppy now. He looked through the spy hole, then unlocked the door and unhooked the chain. Rick opened the door to reveal Aaron standing on the porch, beaming.

"Morning, Rick." Aaron stepped closers, and Rick motioned him inside. "Hey, Daryl," he gave a little, nervous wave in the direction of the kitchen where Daryl had come into view. "Hope you guys slept all right?"

"Yeah, great, thanks Aaron." Rick closed the door and stepped over to the visitor. "Seriously, I mean it. Thank you."

Aaron waved him off. "'s nothing, really. But," he hesitated for a moment and looked at Rick. "Would you mind coming round to the community centre? Deanna and the others from the council would like to talk to you. Just you, for now," he glanced apologetically at Daryl. "They'll want to meet you all properly as soon as possible, but they have asked me for now to just bring you."

Rick looked slightly surprised, but didn't see why he should refuse. He didn't believe now that Aaron meant them any harm, and neither seemed anybody else in Alexandria, at least for the moment. Rick looked at Daryl, who nodded.

"You go, I got it. I'll look after Judith, and I can give Carl his breakfast." Daryl grimaced. "If he lets me."

Rick nodded. "Thanks, Daryl. I'll come back right after, and then we can figure out the rest of the… stuff. Just gimme a minute," he added to Aaron and went over to a dresser. He opened the top drawer and took out a gun. He turned to Aaron. "Feels wrong, to be out without one. Hope it won't cause a problem?" Aaron raised his shoulders. "Not with me, man. I totally get it."

With another nod at Daryl Rick followed Aaron over to the door. Door knob in hand he hesitated briefly and looked back at Daryl, who motioned him on. "Don't worry, man, I'll keep an eye on things. Won't let me guard down."

"I know. 'preciate it, you know that." And with that Rick stepped out into the early autumn light and closed the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick got back just after noon. As he let himself into the house he could hear quiet voices from the kitchen. He peeked round the corner and found Daryl and Carol sitting at the table drinking coffee. Daryl looked much more relaxed than when Rick had left that morning.

"Hey, man, how was the meeting with the boss lady? Look," Daryl indicated a casserole dish next to the stove, "Carol's made us lunch."

"Actually, Sasha made it. We weren't sure what your cooking arrangements would be over here, and we couldn't let you starve." She leaned her forearms onto the table. "Rick, Daryl said you'd been to see Deanna? What's she like? And what did they want?"

Rick sat down and poured himself some coffee, added creamer and stirred thoughtfully. "They want me to be their constable."

Carol nodded. "I thought they might ask you that. What did you tell them?" Rick looked at the table in front of him. "That I'd think about it. At the moment they have a kind of neighborhood watch, but they are all volunteers."

He glanced at Daryl who was turning his coffee mug in his hands, not looking at him. "They've offered to show me around this afternoon. I'm to go with one of the teams patrolling the streets. I've said I'd be there."

Carol reached across the table and placed a hand on Rick's. "I think they'd be lucky to have you as constable. But Rick, only agree if you really want to do it. It's very early days for us, and we've been through a lot. I am sure they'd understand if you needed some downtime first."

Rick smiled at her. "That's what Deanna said. 'No pressure'. She seems all right, really. They want to meet us all. There'll be a BBQ tomorrow night, and we'll be the guests of honor. Deanna said she'll want to talk to everyone soon, get to know us."

Carol pushed her chair back. "That sounds great, it really does. I must be getting back, I said I'd be home for lunch. Our house still needs a little work to make it comfortable for the four of us. Rick, do you want us to look after Judith for the afternoon? Carl could come too. He'd actually be a great help for moving the furniture around. If you and Daryl don't mind, of course."

"Why would I mind?" Daryl got up, again not looking at Carol or Rick. "I'll get Lil Asskicker ready. She's with Carl." He quickly walked away and bounded up the stairs.

Carol looked at Rick. "So he's staying here, then? I am glad. I was worried yesterday, he was back in his shell the way we haven't seen him in years."

So he wasn't the only one who was watching Daryl closely. Rick looked thoughtfully towards the stairs up which Daryl had just disappeared. "I don't know, Carol. He seems a little lost. He drank a whole bottle of whiskey last night. I never thought he was much of a drinker…"

"Why don't you take him out to that neighborhood watch meeting later? Maybe he'd fit in with them. Anyway," she stood up. "You'll have some time to talk, since I am taking that cutie pie here away with me now!"

Carol stood up and walked over to where Daryl had just come down with Judith and took the little girl from him. "Later, Lil Asskicker," Daryl said fondly to the baby and stroked her blond head gently. Then he turned around and handed the bag with the baby things to Carl who had just appeared.

Rick came over too and put a hand on Carl's shoulder. "You ok to go over to Carol's for the afternoon?" Carl grinned. "Course I am, I've got these for Michonne." He held up some chocolate bars. Rick tousled his son's hair. Maybe he could be a kid again for a while, here. "Good. We'll stick close for now, but once we've all settled I'm sure you'll make new friends."

"It's fine, dad, really. I like spending time with Michonne and Carol. And with Judith." Rick felt a fatherly pride at the fond look Carl gave his baby sister.

Carol started walking towards the door. "Right, better be off, Carl. Rick, why don't you pick them up after you're done with those neighborhood watch people?"

Rick walked over to the door and opened it. "I'll do that. Have fun!" He watched Carol and Carl walk out the door and down the steps. "Bye, dad," Carl called over his shoulder.

Rick closed the door and turned around. "Thanks again for looking after them," he said to Daryl. "No problems, I take it?"

"No probs, man. They're good kids. Hey, I dumped my stuff in that second bedroom. Are you real sure you want me here?" Rick walked toward the kitchen and clapped Daryl on the shoulder in passing.

"I said I did, didn't I? Come on, lunchtime. Looks like it's just us two."

Daryl followed Rick into the kitchen. "Just, you know, tell me if you change your mind. 's no bother, crashin' somewhere else."

Rick looked back at him. "Drop it, man. This is a new start for all of us, but the kids need continuity, too. We all need to find our place here."

Daryl scoffed. "Don' know if I'm made for this kinda life. And after the prison, all them strangers we let in, and then…" Rick thought he knew exactly how Daryl almost completed that sentence. _And then we let them all die_. Rick turned round and faced Daryl, looking him directly in the eyes. "This will be different. It just has to be, we'll make it happen."

Daryl met Rick's eyes only for a second, then dropped his gaze and shrugged. Rick sighed inwardly. He knew some of what Daryl was feeling, but he was frustrated with himself that he couldn't make him understand that he wouldn't drop him, just because their lives were going to be different from now on. He tried a different tack.

"Listen, why don't you come with me this afternoon? I am sure that neighborhood watch could use some sup…"

"I ain't no cop!" Daryl suddenly looked angry, then, looking at Rick and realizing who he was talking to, he looked ashamed.

"I know that," Rick retorted. He retraced his step until he was close to Daryl and tried to put his right hand on the man's shoulder again, to calm him down, but Daryl flinched away. "I just thought they could do with some help, is all."

Daryl backed away. "Look, man, no need to find me a home, and a job and all that shit. I can look after myself."

"I know you can," Rick was starting to get cross now, and it was probably evident in his voice. Daryl turned away and snatched up his jacket that was lying on the sofa.

"I'll see you later," he grunted, and before Rick could try and hold him back he had walked out of the house.

Daryl hadn't come back by the time Rick was supposed to meet the neighborhood watch. Rick had eaten alone, making a mental note to praise Sasha for her cooking as soon as possible. When he couldn't wait any longer without risking being extremely late for his meeting Rick reluctantly left the house. He didn't lock the door. There was a spare set of keys but it was sitting on the dresser. Daryl had obviously not thought of taking them. Or maybe, Rick mused sadly, he didn't think he had a right to them.

Rick was to meet the neighborhood watch on the green in front of the building that served as town hall. It had used to be a school and it served as the council's headquarters, storage and distribution centre for all goods, police station (such as it was) and currently also as hospital.

"We might be a bit cramped soon," Deanna had told Rick when they had met. "It's quite convenient, though. The one thing we haven't managed to fix yet are the phone lines, so being under one roof saves the administration staff a lot of legwork."

There were about a dozen men and women waiting for Rick. Lance, the man nominally in charge, greeted Rick warmly and introduced him to the others. Rick remembered that Lance had told him he used to be a security guard. The man was about sixty, and Rick had had a feeling that he was relieved at the thought of handing over responsibility to somebody else.

"We usually split into three groups," he now told Rick, "and walk the entire zone between us. We do this twice a day, varying the times and routes. We check out the perimeter en route, too. 'Course, it's the security forces who're in charge up there, but they have to have their eyes peeled 24/7, so we like to give them a hand.

"Other than that it's pretty straightforward. We check in on people, especially if we know they are likely to need a hand now an' then. Elderly folk, mums with babies, so on."

"Do you get a lot of actual crime?"

Lance shrugged. "The odd drunk and disorderly. Arguments about property. Sometimes a kid goes missing, but so far we've always found them real quick. Usually teens wanting some alone time." He placed a hand on the weapon in a holster by his side. "This is still mostly for the biters. We've had a few incidents, folks died and came back unexpectedly. Right, shall we get going?"

Rick nodded. "Tell me where you want me."

They split and set off in three different directions. Rick stayed with Lance, another man and two women. He thought he remembered the three being called Scott, Teresa and Ruth.

While they walked Lance filled Rick in about the history of the safe zone, and explained details about its day to day running. He pointed out the features of the walls and fences and told Rick about the inhabitants they encountered. Everyone seemed to know Lance, and he greeted them all by name. They chatted with a number of residents and knocked on a few doors, checking on the vulnerable people Lance had mentioned.

They were approaching the front gate when they could hear raised voices. As they got closer they could see that a small crowd had gathered. Lance made his way right to the front of the crowd, and Rick followed. Lance turned to him and pointed. "Isn't he one of your group?"

Right in front of the gates stood Daryl, and he was clearly having a heated argument with one of the security guards manning the gate. As Rick and Lance approached Daryl suddenly lunged at the guard, who stood his ground and pushed Daryl back. Rick could see the guard was clearly trying not to aggravate Daryl further, but he wasn't giving way to whatever it was Daryl wanted.

"'ll go out whenever the fuck I like. Now, ge' out m'way." Rick quickly strode over to Daryl, positioning himself in his line of vision and shielding the guard from Daryl who looked ready to throw punches next.

Rick looked directly at Daryl. "What's going on, man?" He kept his voice low, trying to block out the people around them. Daryl paced to and fro a couple of steps several times, looking for all the world like a caged animal. He didn't meet Rick's eye.

"These fuckers won't let me out. Thought I'd check out the game, get the lay of the land, y'know." He suddenly advanced on the guard again. "Nobody tells me when I come and go, y'hear me!" he yelled. Rick threw out an arm to hold Daryl back, but turned half round to the guard. "Why can't he go out?" he asked.

"Nobody leaves the safe zone on their own, and without permission. These are the rules. I am sorry, but we have to enforce some rules. Otherwise this settlement couldn't function."

Rick nodded his understanding and turned back to Daryl. He tried to catch the other man's eyes again, but failed. "Daryl," he kept his voice very low, to calm Daryl down and to let him know that he was on his side and that this was a conversation just between them. Rick thought he could smell alcohol on Daryl again. "We've just gotten here, we need to take it easy. There'll be some things here we might not like, but we'll need to be patient. We'll discuss these rules with their council, see if we can negotiate. For now, please, let's just keep our cool."

He had put a hand on Daryl's shoulder while he had been talking, but Daryl now yanked away from Rick. "Don't tell me wha't'do," he spat. "Jus' go back to yer playin' cops." And with that, Daryl turned on his heel and stalked off, pushing his way through the swelling crowd of onlookers.

Rick went to fetch Judith and Carl after he finished his round with the watch. He had not yet definitely agreed to their request of becoming their constable, but he was pretty certain he wanted to. These were good people, and he had seen that with his experience on the force he could do his bit to make this settlement more secure.

When Rick got home with the children Daryl wasn't there. Rick had half hoped that he wouldn't be, so that he wouldn't have to make a scene in front of the kids, and felt immediately guilty. Rick was sure his friend needed help, but he wasn't sure what he could do for him. Lance had asked him back at the fence whether Rick wanted to go after Daryl, but Rick had said no. That had also made him feel slightly guilty, but he'd been properly exasperated with the other man and wasn't sure it wouldn't come to blows if he confronted Daryl in that state.

Rick had fed Judith, then fixed dinner for Carl and himself. Carl had asked where Daryl was, and Rick had made excuses. That annoyed him again. He hated lying to Carl, and maybe Daryl wasn't a good influence if this was what he would be like.

At that though Rick was properly disgusted with himself. He hadn't offered Daryl a place to stay just for the convenience of free childcare. Or had he? No, Rick decided. In the world _Before_ his kids would have been his first priority, to be shielded from all evil. In this new world his group truly was his family, and he had responsibility for them all. As they had for him and his kids.

Carl went to his room after dinner. Rick left him to it. He was sure there were many things Carl wanted to catch up on now that he had a proper door to close behind himself again. Rick sat on the sofa with a beer for as long as he could keep his eyes open. When Daryl hadn't reappeared by midnight Rick went to bed.

He was woken a few hours later by heavy footsteps on the stairs. It took all of Rick's self-control not to sprint into the corridor with his weapon drawn. Instead, he got up quietly and opened the bedroom door a crack. He was just in time to see the bathroom door down the hall close.

Rick waited a few more minutes, then he could hear a toilet flush, and the shower stuttering to life. Rick closed his bedroom door. Daryl had come home after all, and Rick didn't mind to admit to himself that he felt hugely relieved.


	3. Chapter 3

After he had left Rick's house, Daryl had located the school building where, Aaron had told them, the supplies were being kept. He wasn't sure what to expect and had been ready to bolt if they'd asked him too many questions or, fuck, tried to make him sign for the stuff he wanted. But it had been no problem.

The supplies were stored in what had been the gymnasium of the school, on long shelves filling about half of the space. A smiling young woman had given him a paper bag and told him to help himself. "Just let me know if you take the last one of something, so we can tell the supply teams what to look out for."

Daryl knew he should've gotten some sensible stuff, like baby food, and candy for Carl, and bring it all back to the house and have dinner with his family. Maybe he could find some beers, too, to share with Rick on the porch later.

Instead, he had grabbed some cans of spaghetti hoops, cigarettes and another bottle of bourbon. Scanning the shelves for anything else he fancied his eyes fell on a box full of razorblade packages. He pocketed some of those, and left.

Alexandria was still sparsely enough inhabited to have entire streets of empty properties so it shouldn't have been that difficult for Daryl to walk off his restlessness. But he couldn't do it, he felt trapped. In one of the empty streets, on a whim, he jumped over a fence into the garden of one of the fanciest houses he'd ever seen. There, on the back porch of that huge house, he'd dropped himself onto the deck. Wolfing down a can of spaghetti hoops and washing them down with whiskey he contemplated their sudden change of fortune.

It wasn't that he didn't want his family to be safe, or for them not to have a shot at a normal life. It was just that he himself didn't really do very well in the real word. He would've liked to explain this to Rick, at least, but he felt too ashamed.

Before all this shit went down he'd been a nothing. Nobody needed Daryl Dixson, and most people were glad to see the back of him. After their mom had died nobody had really given a shit about what Daryl did. Merle hadn't been there half the time, and Daryl had mostly hidden himself in the woods, sometimes not emerging for weeks. His pa certainly hadn't given a shit what he did, even when he was small enough to do himself real damage when following Merle and his stupid friends around…

The thought of that old bastard brought on memories Daryl didn't much care to wallow in. He got up and started pacing. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. Sometimes smoking calmed him, but in combination with the whiskey he was reminded too much of the times when his days had consisted of lying around somebody's shitty trailer, getting drunk and high with Merle. Daryl threw away the cigarette, jumped the enclosure of the veranda and climbed back over the fence.

After the spat at the gate Daryl had wandered around aimlessly again. He hadn't meant to be aggressive, and certainly not with Rick, but he just felt so damn _trapped_. He knew the right thing to do would be to go back to Rick's, apologize and take on the new life Rick had offered. Daryl had not wanted to admit it to himself before, but the fact that Rick wanted him to stick around and help look after his kids was the one thing Daryl had been hoping for. And now he already felt he was letting Rick down.

But he didn't go back to the house. He didn't know why, but he just couldn't. After a while he went back to that porch where he finished the whiskey and finally passed out.

Daryl awoke in the middle of the night, not sure for a moment where he was. When he remembered it hit him like a blow to the stomach. He shouldn't be out here sulking, he should go home. But what if Rick didn't want him near his kids anymore? After what had gone down that day?

There was nothing for it, he'd just have to go and talk to the man. He'd sneak into the house now, go to bed and then apologize in the morning.

When he got to the house, the door was unlocked. Maybe Rick did want him to come back, after all. Daryl snuck up the stairs and into the bathroom off the hall. After relieving himself he contemplated finally taking that shower Carol had hinted he needed. Daryl toed off his boots and undid his belt. He turned the shower on and felt through the pockets of his trousers because he was pretty sure he would do better throwing them out than trying to wash them.

There were several small packets in his back pocket. Daryl pulled out the razorblades he had pocketed from the supply room earlier. He hardly remembered putting them in there, and didn't really know why he took them.

And suddenly his heart was hammering so loud, and his breath came so fast, he started seeing stars. His knees buckled under him and he sat down hard on the floor.

All the memories came flooding back, of his father, and his father's belt. How he'd used Daryl's back as an ashtray, and laughed while he did it. And the nights, when he would come into the bedroom Daryl shared with Merle. He only ever came when Merle was away, and when Merle had gone to prison for the first time this had become an almost nightly occurrence…

Daryl hadn't even been aware that he had pulled off his socks. He now sat with his legs drawn up, his forehead resting on his knees. The world was spinning out of control, just as it had every night after his pa had been and gone, and Daryl had dragged himself into their shitty bathroom, stripped off his sometimes bloody underwear and hunkered down under the stream of hot water until he felt like his skin would blister.

He couldn't remember when, sitting there in that shower, he'd first reached for an old razorblade that his dad had dropped carelessly on the side. He'd held it in his hand, and had finally pressed his thumb hard on the tip of the rusty blade. He had just wanted to crowd out the pain he felt, that disgust that was with him constantly. After that he had relied on that sharp physical pain to numb out all the rest for years.

Now, his hands almost automatically unwrapped a blade and reached for their target. Daryl crossed his legs, the left ankle exposed on top of his right knee. A haze seemed to have settled around him, his vision was blurry, but he didn't need to see anything to do this. He needed to do it just right, though. With his right hand he pressed the blade hard into the skin just above the bone on the inside of his ankle. He waited until the blood began to blossom from the cut, then he shifted the blade up half an inch and cut again, and again, and again.

The pain was sweet, and it made him feel sick at the same time. He leaned back to savor it, even though he felt disgusted with himself. When the pain abated he switched legs. There was blood all over his pant leg, and soon the blood was all over the floor, too. He finished the other side more quickly, the feeling of shame almost masking the sense of relieve entirely.

After cleaning the floor with a towel Daryl finally stepped into shower where he stayed, crouched under the hot jet, until the water no longer carried any trace of blood to the drain.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl was woken by the sun on his face. He tried to keep his eyes shut for a while because he didn't think he'd care for what his head would feel like when he opened them. Finally he had to concede that that wasn't working. His head was throbbing like mad anyway. So he rolled over and sat up.

And the memory of what he had done the previous night hit him. For a moment he thought that it had been an especially vivid nightmare, but when he looked down at his ankles and saw the dark red lines vivid and angry against white skin it seemed as if all air was being pressed from his lungs, and the room began to spin. No, this couldn't be. _No. No…_

Daryl jumped off the bed and bolted for the door. He could just about make out Carl's startled face as he rushed past the kid coming up the stairs with Judith. He fumbled with the doorknob on the bathroom door for a moment, willing himself to keep it together just another second.

And he did, but barely. Shaking, he sank to his knees in front of the toilet and his stomach turned over. There was only whiskey and tinned spaghetti to bring up, but it hurt something fierce. Daryl had always hated throwing up after a night of drinking. It made his head hurt until he thought he'd black out, and sometimes in the past he had. This time he just continued to retch, even long after there was nothing left inside.

He stayed slumped on the floor for a long time. Tears were running down his face and that wasn't just from throwing up. Why had he done _this_ the night before? What had made _it_ come back? He'd been in lots of upsetting situations in the last few years, and nothing had made him turn back to _it_.

But maybe that was it. This was not a situation he had found himself in so far. This was way too much as it had been _Before_. He didn't want to think about it any longer, it wouldn't do any good, just make him puke his guts out some more. With an effort Daryl pushed himself off the floor and flushed the toilet.

When he stepped in front of the mirror he couldn't help but wince. He looked a real mess. The best thing to do would be to shower, but he couldn't quite face that yet. So he washed his face with cold water, hoping that at least his tears wouldn't show, and rinsed his mouth.

Before he went downstairs he returned to his room to put on socks. Another of these rituals from before. Some days he'd had to walk round wearing long pants and shirt even in the middle of summer. Those days he'd usually hidden himself away in the woods. Considering how little notice anyone had taken of him normally, his odd choice of clothing had usually elicited taunts from Merle, his stupid friends and, if Daryl could be bothered to go at all, the other kids at school.

After also slipping his jeans back on Daryl went down the stairs. Rick was in the kitchen, making coffee again. He glanced up, looking concerned. "Are you ok? Carl said he saw you… and you look like shit, if you don't mind me sayin'."

Daryl shrugged. "S'alright, just hit the booze too hard after yesterday, y'know…?" Then he squared his shoulders and looked up. "Rick, 'm sorry 'bout it. Wasn't thinkin' straight…"

Rick came around the kitchen counter and stopped in front of Daryl, who shifted but willed himself not to flinch. Rick was staring him down, as was his habit when he was grappling with some intense and knotty problem.

"Daryl, I need you here, I _need_ you around to make this work. But more importantly, I _want_ you here. You are my brother, you're family. Nothing's gonna change that now. Understood?"

After a moment, Daryl nodded but didn't say anything, not trusting his voice to cooperate. Rick turned back to his coffee.

"Right," he said. "Let's have breakfast. There's cereal or – goodness – we even have bread." Rick looked back over at him. "No need to deny yourself food now, man. There's plenty here, and you could definitely do with fattenin' up some."

Normally, Daryl would have rolled his eyes at Rick's mothering. This time, though, he knew Rick was only trying to make light, trying to put Daryl at ease. "Thanks, man," Daryl said, and he wasn't talking about breakfast.

They spent a peaceful day after that. Rick had decided that they should go and visit the others at their new homes. "Deanna said we should explore. She told her people to give us our space." He looked at Daryl. "You haven't been anywhere yet," he said. "Sides, I bet they all missed you yesterday." Daryl had snorted at this, but the truth was, he'd missed his people, even if he couldn't bring himself to believe the feeling was mutual. They'd been together constantly out there, and Daryl had grown used to knowing where any one of them was at any one moment.

They had put Judith in a stroller and set off with her and Carl. At first Daryl refused to push Judith, but when Rick teased him, insinuating that Daryl was being too precious about his masculinity, he relented. Daryl found that he rather enjoyed the experience and from then on wouldn't let either Carl or Rick near the handles.

They first went over to Abraham's group. Rosita greeted them at the door, looking stunning in a summer dress. Abraham had agreed to Rick's plan. "Yeah, we thought the same. Time to check everyone's still ship shaped." They then set off to Maggie and Glenn's place, running into Gabriel and Noah on the way. Evidently they had all had the same idea.

Maggie offered them coffee, which all of them seemed to be unable to get enough of. They talked for a bit over the hot drinks, Daryl giving Judith her bottle. After that Maggie changed the little girl's diapers and they had set off for Carol's.

There they had lunch and spent the afternoon. Sasha evidently enjoyed cooking and had them all feeling better fed than anyone could remember. They didn't talk about much of substance, everyone just seemed glad to be with the others peacefully for a change. Michonne had found a deck of cards and started teaching Carl how to play poker. Soon, Abraham and Eugene joined them, and the others settled down to watch, teasing Carl and generally goofing off.

Daryl sat slightly apart, watching. He held a sleeping Judith in his arms, and felt content for the first time since arriving in Alexandria. This was how he liked things best: knowing where everyone was, keeping them in sight. Maybe this'd be all right, after all.

At six they all set off to Deanna's house for the BBQ. Daryl wasn't too keen on going, but as nobody else voiced any objection he didn't want to be the one to spoil things. Not now, not this time.

There were many tables set up outside Deanna's house right in the street, and it looked like all of Alexandria, probably minus any security guards keeping watch on the wall, were invited.

The sight of that many strangers in one place made Daryl freeze on the spot. He hung back as the others approached, heart hammering.

Deanna, who had been talking to another group, approached them then. "Welcome, Rick and family." She didn't extend her hand to shake any of theirs but Daryl thought she looked like a damn politician, anyway. Out canvassin' or shit.

Ducking away from Deanna's gaze, which lingered too long for his comfort Daryl bent over Judith who was getting fussy in her stroller. Feeling slightly embarrassed at hiding behind a baby for comfort Daryl nonetheless took her into his arms and moved them and the stroller to one side a ways.

He tried to stay invisible after that, sitting under a tree just far enough away to still have the entire party in his field of vision. At some point Carol came over with a plate of food and a beer. "You need to eat something, go on!" Knowing Carol wouldn't take no for an answer Daryl took the paper plate and bottle from her. And though he hadn't given it any thought until that moment he suddenly realized how hungry he was. "Thanks."

Daryl wolfed down a burger and then a second while Carol bent down over the stroller in which Judith was now sleeping soundly. "She is such a good baby." Carol sighed and sat down on the grass next to Daryl. "The racket she can sleep through, truly astonishing."

Daryl didn't think he had anything meaningful to contribute to that so he just kept eating, taking the occasional swig from his beer. Carol followed Daryl's gaze, which kept returning to Deanna. "I'm not sure what to make of her. She seems to be after something with us, but damned if I knew what that could be." Carol looked over at Daryl and continued, "She's given me a job, you know?" Now that caught Daryl's attention.

"Whas' tha' supposed t' mean?"

"It means," Carol said "that I will be making food for a bunch of old people." She giggled suddenly. Daryl scowled. "Wha's so funny 'bout that?" Carol shook her head. "I told her I'm a real people person." Daryl snorted. "Now, tha' is funny." He returned to his food.

Throughout the rest of the evening one or the other of their group kept coming over to sit with Daryl. None of them suggested Daryl mingle with the strangers or asked anything else of him, and Daryl was grateful. He was also grateful for the company, even though he was sure that they really only came to play or cuddle with Judith.

Only Rick didn't come over. Once or twice Daryl saw him look, giving him that questioning nod they had adopted in the outside. Daryl responded to that silent question with a small jerk of the head that meant "All's under control, no complaints."

Daryl also kept noticing Deanna's glances, but he decided to ignore those. Nevertheless Daryl was grateful when Rick caught his eye and motioned to him that they'd be leaving.

He joined Rick and Carl on the curb as they were saying their goodbyes. It seemed the rest of their group felt like staying some, but Daryl was just relieved and eager to be gone. If he was honest with himself he felt exhausted. Other than the one beer Carol had brought him Daryl hadn't touched a drop of alcohol that night, but he could still feel the whiskey in his bones. And there was that other thing that he had almost avoided thinking about all day. Almost, but not quite. He got a reminder every time he moved, every time he tried to cross his legs. There was a twinge, a small nip on his ankles, both delicious and terrifying at the same time. But he was determined to leave this behind again, lock it away, get on with this new life.

Daryl didn't think Rick would notice that he was even quieter than usual. After all, he never said much on his most talkative days. But on the way home Daryl thought he was catching Rick's eyes flicking over to him more than was strictly necessary, and the looks he got seemed rather odd. Good as Daryl usually was at ignoring people staring tonight he seemed to be strangely thin skinned.

"Did you know Deanna gave Carol a job?"

Rick looked as surprised as Daryl felt that he'd actually broken the silence, but he mastered his features quickly and nodded. "She talked to all of us tonight, offering everyone a job. Michonne is gonna be constable as well." Daryl gave Rick a quick look. "Did she not talk to you?" Daryl shook his head. "Don't need no-one sort me out'a job," he growled, but thought better of it in an instance. "You gonna do it then? Be th'constable?"

Rick looked ahead at Carl who was pushing Judith in her stroller. "I think I'll give it a go, yeah. I guess it's part of going back to normal life." He looked like he was about to expand on the subject, but Daryl scowled and looked away, so Rick dropped it. They continued walking in silence until they reached the house.

Once inside Carl unstrapped Judith from her stroller. The little girl had fallen asleep again. "I'll tuck her in," Carl said, holding Judith gently. Rick nodded. "Thanks, Carl. And then go straight to bed yourself. It's late, and you're supposed to start school tomorrow." Carl rolled his eyes, but made no reply. He started for the stairs.

Rick looked at Daryl, and seemed only barely able to suppress a grin. "I know it's no school night for you, man, but you look awfully like you could use some shut eye, too." For a moment Daryl felt like giving a scathing reply again, but then remembered what he'd promised himself. "Suppose," he murmured at the floor, pushing his fists deep into his pockets.

Then, looking at Rick properly for the first time since they had left the party, he added, "Don't worry abou' t'kids, I'll look after 'em tomorrow. You go and do ya thing." Rick looked genuinely grateful, which made Daryl feel good. After a moment he pulled his hands out of his pocket and gave Rick a small nod. "See ya in t'mornin'." And with that Daryl turned round and went up the stairs.

When Daryl had closed the door to his bedroom, toed off his shoes and stripped to his boxer shorts he stood by the window. He felt tired and by rights should have no trouble falling asleep tonight. Things were good again with him and his family, with Rick. With the lights on Daryl knew he was safe. But he wasn't so sure that, with the lights out, his eyes closed and his body relaxing into sleep he wouldn't see it again, see _him_ , see that life he'd hated so much. And this night he'd have to meet his demons stone sober.

There was nothing for it though. If he wanted to keep his word to Rick he'd have to get some sleep. With a sigh he turned the lights off and lay down on the bed.

Rick stayed up a little after the others had gone up, indulging in a rediscovered passion: reading bad cop novels. He had discovered a stack of books in one of the storage closets in the house, and there were a few from his favorite writers. After a while, though, he felt his concentration wander and his eyes droop. With a sigh he put the book aside and stood up. Better hit the hay himself. It was a school night for him, too, after all.

He went up the stairs slowly, savoring how quiet the house was. He still hadn't gotten used to that side of their new life. No snarling walkers, ever. Suddenly Rick froze. He could hear voices, or rather one voice, low and indistinct. Creeping along the upstairs landing he quickly determined that the sound was coming from Daryl's room.

Rick realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled. Daryl must be having a bad dream, and while that was far from good news at least there was no reason for Rick to go for his weapon. He stopped in front of Daryl's door, frowning. Rick had never known him to have nightmares. But then, this new situation had been especially hard on Daryl, so he supposed unusual reactions were to be expected.

Suddenly there came a scream from the room. Rick was through the door in a flash. Daryl was on the bed, the sheets bunched around his legs. His body was arching back, like he was trying to squirm away from something. He was mumbling now, his hands outstretched as if holding off an attacker.

"Dad?" Rick turned to see Carl standing in the hallway just behind him, staring at the bed. "Daryl's just having a nightmare. Go back to bed. I got it." Carl nodded and disappeared from Rick's field of vision. Rick turned back to the bed.

Daryl still lay twisted, mumbling incoherently. Rick stepped closer. He could see the other man's face outlined dimly by moonlight. It was contorted as if Daryl was in pain. No, Rick realized. It looked like he was afraid for his life.

Rick knew he had to try and calm him, he couldn't leave his friend like this. He sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. "Daryl," he whispered. "It's all right, shhh." He put his hand on Daryl's shoulder.

The next thing Rick knew was his back hitting the floor. Daryl was on top of him, snarling. His hands were scrabbling for purchase around Rick's neck. But despite the moment of shock Rick was still the stronger of the two, and his police training kicked in immediately. He twisted onto his side, away from Daryl's hands and pulled his knees up. Pushing himself up on one arm he used his body's momentum to push Daryl over with his free hand, kicking his legs from under him at the same time.

And suddenly Rick was free and their roles were reversed. Daryl was on his back, panting. Rick had him pinned to the floor by the shoulders, and he could tell that Daryl wasn't really seeing him, or anything. His eyes were wide and scared but strangely out of focus. "Daryl," Rick tried again quietly. "Daryl, wake up. It's ok, you're fine. Just wake up."

It seemed to take a long time, but finally Daryl's eyes started to focus on Rick's face. Rick still kept him pinned to the floor until he could feel Daryl's tension ease. Finally, Daryl spoke, his voice hoarse and thick with sleep. "Wha' happened? Why are we on t'floor?" Suddenly his eyes snapped back to Rick's face. "I attacked you," he whispered, and he looked so miserable all of a sudden, it made Rick hurt inside. "Don't know wha'happened… had to get away… Rick," and there were tears in his eyes now. "I'm sorry."

Rick let go of Daryl then. He pushed himself back onto his feet. He felt a gut-wrenching sorrow for his friend, but he knew Daryl wouldn't take kindly to pity. So he just held out a hand. "C'mon." And Daryl took the proffered hand and pulled himself up. He stood there awkwardly, not looking at Rick, but Rick knew they had to address this then and there.

"Daryl," he said, making his voice as unthreatening as possible while trying not to sound worried. "T'ain't your fault, you didn't know what you were doing, forget it. But," and now he spoke with more emphasis. "I need to be sure you're ok, if you are to stay here and help with the kids." For a moment Rick thought Daryl would get angry again, and braced himself. But then all the fight seemed to go out of him.

His shoulders sagged, and he gave a small nod. Rick continued, "Tomorrow, take Judith to that clinic in the old school. She really should have a check-up anyway. And then tell the doctor about what happened tonight. They've probably seen it before, way the world is now." Rick thought he saw Daryl bristle under that shaggy mane of his. He still wouldn't meet Rick's eyes, but he just nodded again.

"Good," Rick said and turned towards the door. "Now come on." Daryl didn't move.

"What d'you mean?"

"You're obviously not ready to sleep alone," Rick replied. "My bed's plenty big for both of us. Don't remember you ever havin' nightmares when we would camp out all together, so maybe just some company at night will sort ya out." And before Daryl could respond Rick stepped back to his side and gently took his elbow, steering him from the room.

Daryl still didn't look up properly but Rick saw his features relax a little, and thought he could make out relief in those blue eyes in that split second Daryl glanced over at him.


	5. Chapter 5

When Daryl woke the next morning he was on his own in the big bed in the master bedroom. For a moment he savored the sensation of being properly rested and not suffering from a hangover. He drowsed for a few minutes, spread out across the mattress. He could smell Rick on the sheets, which was comforting and somehow felt right.

Noises from the rest of the house finally convinced him to get up. He found his pants and pulled them on, grateful that he'd not even bothered to remove his socks last night when he had lain down back in his own room. The cuts on his ankles was a conversation he wanted to avoid with Rick at all cost. In any case, they were healing, and he had done with that now for sure.

Daryl made his way along the hall and down the stairs. Carl and Rick were in the kitchen having breakfast. Judith sat in a high chair, playing with a spoon. Passing her Daryl pressed a quick kiss on that down-soft hair and inhaled her baby scent. He noticed that Rick was wearing a police uniform, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Not bad," Daryl smiled at him, pointing to his chest where a sheriff's badge had been affixed. Rick grimaced. "Are you making fun of me, Dixon?" Daryl smirked and went over to the coffee press.

He remembered how Merle used to call Rick "Officer Friendly". Daryl knew that Merle had not meant that in a nice way, and Rick was many things these days but certainly not friendly. But for Daryl, he was the best thing that could have happened.

"Did you sleep alright?"

Daryl froze. Did Rick mean to discuss Daryl's nightmare and what he had done to Rick right here, in front of Carl? But then he willed himself to relax. Rick's tone was friendly, he was obviously interested how Daryl had slept after that awful incident. How he had slept in Rick's bed. Daryl made an effort keep his reply just as friendly.

"Better'n in a long while." And he meant it.

When Daryl came over to the table with his coffee Rick looked at his watch. "Christ, is that the time? Carl, we better get going. Got your stuff?"

As Carl jumped up to collect his bag from upstairs Rick looked at Daryl. "You'll go over to the clinic with Judith." It wasn't a question, but there was no hardness in his voice. Daryl nodded. "Good." Rick got up from the table.

"Judith's been fed, but she'll probably need changing before long. Make sure you eat some breakfast, too," he reminded Daryl. "Carl finishes school at midday, but I've told him to go round to Sasha for lunch. She'll be staying home for a while longer, said she could do with a rest."

Daryl felt his face flush with shame. Rick didn't trust him to look after his kids, he should've known. "I don't mind making Carl summat to eat. I can cook some, y'know." Rick closed the gap between them with two steps. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "It's not that, man. I just want you to take it easy for a bit, too. Judith will keep you busy enough, you'll see." His voice was still low, and gentle. "Daryl, I want you to get better, get used to this. We've had complicated for long enough, let's just do one step a time for a while. We all deserve it, and you more than most." Daryl didn't look at Rick, but nodded.

Carl came back down and Rick turned towards him. "Ready?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Let's go." He stroked Judith's hair, then gave Daryl's shoulder a quick squeeze. "See you tonight."

And with that he and Carl were gone. Daryl sat down at the table, willing himself to breathe slowly, hating himself. Why did he have to be so touchy? Rick was right to be cautious, take it slow, and Daryl should be grateful. He'd do exactly as Rick had asked. And maybe, if he could get some good things from the supply store, he could cook them all dinner.

When Daryl got to the clinic with Judith it took him half an hour to even make it through the door. He paced outside on the green until he thought he could feel the groove he was wearing into the grass.

His whole life he had never gone to see a doctor of his own free will. Sometimes, when things had gotten a bit rough around Merle and his gang, he'd had no choice if he'd ever wanted to stop bleeding. He'd been to the ER at the local county hospital a few times then, but that was about it. And he sure as hell had never talked to a doctor about nightmares, or about what his pa got up to at home.

Finally making up his mind he pushed Judith's stroller up the path and in the door. The building was almost deserted, but he saw a hand painted sign reading "Clinic" straight away. He followed the direction indicated on there. A handsome dark woman at a desk further down the hall smiled as he approached. Her gaze flicked to Judith. "You must be Daryl." She must have picked up on Daryl's wariness because she added, "Deanna has told us about you all. There are preciously few new faces in this place. Welcome to Alexandria. I am Mary." She extended a hand, and Daryl surprised himself by shaking it.

"The doctor can see you right away. We're not very busy right now, thank goodness. Not many people here, you see. Just go through those double doors." She pointed. "It's the first on the right."

Daryl nodded his thanks and continued down the hall. The door to the room Mary had indicated stood wide open. Daryl poked his head through. "Err, hi…" The woman sitting at a desk just inside the room looked up from a file she was reading. She seemed young, probably not yet thirty. Her smile was friendly. She was wearing scrubs and her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

She motioned Daryl inside. "Come in. Rick mentioned you'd be dropping by." Daryl had the strong urge to bolt. Why had Rick talked to this woman about him? What had he told her? As if reading Daryl's mind the woman added "He said that Judith had never had a check-up." She smiled at the baby and then looked up at Daryl. "I'm Angela."

She got up from her desk. "Can you bring her over here?" she asked while dunking her hands into a large basin. "Disinfectant," she explained, catching Daryl looking. "A bit nineteenth century, doing it this way, but we've run out of the fancy hand sanitizers."

Daryl took Judith from the stroller and went over to the examination couch. Angela took the baby from him and placed her in front of herself on the couch. She checked the little girl over carefully, talking to her in a quiet voice. Daryl thought she looked comfortable with the task and began to relax. As always unable to stand still indoors for long he wandered over to the window and looked out. There wasn't much to see, a handful of people walking across the green, the outer walls in the background. He suppressed the longing he felt when his gaze wandered higher, at the tress over the wall. His place was here now, where his family wanted to be.

"She is a perfect little munchkin. Absolutely nothing wrong with her."

He turned around. Angela had picked up Judith and now rocked her on one arm. Daryl went over to them. "Right about now I would usually give Judith her shots, but of course we have no vaccines any more, since every medical facility lost power at some point and they all spoiled without refrigeration.

"That'll be a problem further down the line, when there's enough of us again to easily spread diseases." She sighed. "Nothing we can do about it now. I do want to give her a couple of vitamin shots, though. Daryl, can you sit down and hold her?" She motioned to the chair in front of her desk.

Daryl sat and she placed the baby on his lap. "This'll be a bit unpleasant, for all of us," she said. She went over to a cupboard near her desk and opened a door. When she came back she was carrying a syringe and two small bottles. "There'll be two small jabs into the thigh. Brace yourself," she warned Daryl. "Babies don't like needles."

Daryl looked away when Angela approached Judith with the syringe. He held the baby firmly in his lap, and his heart went out the little bundle. Surprisingly, the first shot only caused Judith to fuss. On the second one, however, she started crying.

"That's it, little one," Angela said soothingly, affixing a band aid. "All over now." Daryl took the little girl more firmly into his arms and got up. Rocking her gently he paced for a while until the crying subsided. Angela was putting away her equipment, then turned around.

"Is there anything else I can do for you today?" she asked. Daryl's heart started hammering hard. He wasn't sure he could speak, but gave a nod instead. Angela motioned at the chair again, but Daryl shook his head. "S'alright if I stand?" It was barely a whisper.

"Of course," Angela said, and went over to the door which had remained open throughout. Nobody had passed the room, but she shut the door now anyway. "What's on your mind, Daryl?"

Struggling to keep it together Daryl turned and faced the window again. "I did something… bad last night. I attacked Rick. I didn't mean to," he added hastily. "Was asleep, must've had a nightmare. Next thing, we're both on the floor." He looked over at the doctor. Angela's face was thoughtful.

"Have you been having trouble sleeping recently? Have you felt unusually on edge?" Daryl nodded to both. "We don't have a psychiatrist yet," she continued "but I have seen this in a few people coming in from out there. Insomnia, anxiety." She seemed to assess Daryl with a gaze. "I can give you some sleeping pills, if you want? Then we can see how you do in a few weeks."

Daryl nodded, feeling some relief that this was almost over. He doubted very much that any pills a doctor would be willing to give him would do much good, but he'd done what Rick had asked, that was the main thing. "Ok," he managed.

"You stay here while I go and get some pills. I've run out." She motioned to the cupboard doors that still stood open.

Daryl remained standing, rocking a now dozing Judith. He heard Angela's steps fade in the distance and turned toward the open cupboard. When the doctor had opened it earlier to take out the things for Judith his eyes had alighted on a familiar sight: Oxycontin had been one of Merle's favorite downers. He'd given them to Daryl on occasion, even though Daryl wasn't too interested in drugs. This particular one had given him headaches and stomach cramps, and had made him feel sick. But he also remembered how it had made him sleep like a stone, and that was really all that counted now. Get his sleeping under control so Rick didn't kick him out.

Daryl didn't hesitate and grabbed several of the small white bottles and stuffed them into his pockets. There were plenty in the cupboard still. Then, feeling guilty he quickly walked to the door, with half a mind of just leaving. At that moment Angela came back into the room. "Here you are." She handed Daryl a small box. "One each night an hour before bed, and come and see me again in a couple of weeks."

"Thanks." Daryl tried to smile. "For everything." Angela smiled back. "Don't mention it. See you soon."

Daryl left.

They settled into a routine after that. During the next week Daryl took over the cooking and the kids, which gave him a queer feeling sometimes when he thought about it. Merle would have scoffed at Daryl's new life and would have called him Rick's bitch. But Daryl didn't care too much. While not exactly feeling like he fitted into this new place, he was with his people and that was what mattered. The daily routine with the kids calmed him, and sleeping in Rick's bed felt nicer than he'd any right to expect.

Daryl was still afraid that he would hurt Rick again and kept taking the pills he had lifted from the doctor's cupboard every night. He hadn't tried the sleeping tablets. He just didn't trust something that wasn't a narcotic to keep him under sufficiently.

The pills made him feel dizzy and tired every now and then, but he'd just have to lump that. As long as that was the worst of it he had no right to complain. He'd had the urge to use the razor blades again once or twice, when he'd felt especially trapped and restless. But he had resisted. He had not thrown the blades out, though. They were hidden behind a cabinet in the bathroom.

One day Glenn had come over and asked Daryl if he wanted to help out with the runs. "Aiden is such a jerk, that's why I didn't ask you before" Glenn had confided. "But Deanna has asked me to start a second outfit, and obviously I'd rather take our guys than these softies here. Abraham and Tara are coming, too."

So Daryl had finally been allowed outside again. He knew it wasn't normal, to feel better outside the walls than in, but he couldn't help it. He looked forward to each run, also because every time he returned, dirty and exhausted, Rick seemed genuinely happy and relieved to have him back in one piece.

On one of these nights after they had been out all day, when Daryl had come out of the en-suite, toweling dry his hair Rick had been waiting for him with a quizzical look on his face. Wordlessly he had stepped up to Daryl, placing one hand on Daryl's bare chest. Then, still without a word, he had turned Daryl round on the spot and had massaged his shoulders.

Nothing more had happened, but when they lay down after that they had stayed very close together. Neither of them had said a word, but Rick had scooted close enough for their arms to be touching, and when Daryl woke up during the night he could still feel the other man close by, Rick's warm breath on his neck. Daryl had realized that he'd forgotten to take his customary dose of narcotics that evening, but didn't feel perturbed. He had rarely ever felt this relaxed, and had easily gone back to sleep.

A few days after that, over lunch, Carl told Daryl about his friend Enid. Rick and the others had been teasing Carl about her because he went beet red whenever he saw her or talked about her. Daryl hadn't taken part in that teasing. He knew what it was like to feel awkward around people constantly, and he knew it wasn't funny. That was probably why, Daryl thought, Carl confided in him.

"She sneaks out over the fence sometimes, you know," Carl said. "She's got these sticks, and she puts them between a post and the fence and climbs up. Then she goes down the outside the same way."

Daryl frowned. "Why'd she do that?" Carl shrugged. "She says she feels trapped in here sometimes." He suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Don't tell my pa, ok?" Daryl nodded. He knew only too well how the girl was feeling, so he definitely wouldn't give her away.

"Just make sure you don' follow her over, 'kay?"

Carl had nodded.


	6. Chapter 6

It was about three weeks after they had arrived in Alexandria that Daryl started noticing the Oxy wasn't working as well. For a week already he'd been feeling more and more nauseous and dizzy in the mornings. During the day he became irritated to the point of rage. He managed to hold his temper in check, for the time being, but he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep a lid on it. He didn't feel like himself.

His sleep became restless and broken by nightmares. Daryl endured two almost completely sleepless nights during which he had crept downstairs so as not to wake Rick (or worse, attack him). There he had stayed curled up on the sofa, feeling too miserable even for his usual restlessness. In the morning he had crept back upstairs to bed so Rick wouldn't notice anything. Daryl had contemplated sleeping in the spare bedroom again, but the thought of even going in there panicked him. What he'd done to Rick there scared him too much.

The day after the second bad night a run was scheduled, and since it was going to be a big one both of the supply crews were supposed to go together. Both Glenn and Daryl had stayed away from Aiden since Deanna had given Glenn responsibility for the second crew. It was clear that Aiden held a grudge against the newcomers and Glenn had asked Daryl not to provoke him.

The morning of the run Daryl briefly considered to beg out of the scheduled foray. He felt terrible. He had actually taken two of the damn Oxys the night before, to try and get some shut eye, but all he had gotten was an awful headache. His stomach felt like it was on fire and the nausea was so strong just brushing his teeth made him gag.

It was a Saturday and Rick had the day off. He was in the kitchen feeding Judith when Daryl came down. Rick didn't always take the two days off a week that were standard practice for his team, but when Daryl was asked to go on a run he had often managed to be at home for the children.

Daryl knew he couldn't get down any breakfast, and even the smell of the coffee made him feel ill. To stave off any questions or comments Daryl asked, "You sure you ok, stayin' in today? No big emergency in need of some Officer Grimes magic?"

Rick shook his head. "Nah, I am going nowhere today. Staying right here with my little pumpkin." He tickled Judith, who giggled. "Carol's coming over later. Said she wanted to make sure we're not letting the place get too filthy." He looked around the room. "We're doin' all right, aren't we?" When his eyes alighted on Daryl, Rick frowned. "Did you sleep at all, man? You look exhausted."

Daryl waved him away with what he hoped looked merely like his usual impatience and not sheer panic. "Am fine," he mumbled, then added, "See you later," and made for the door.

"Be careful out there, Daryl," Rick called after him. And then, "I mean it…" But Daryl only half heard him as the door closed with a click before Rick had finished the sentence.

They were going to go out far that day, with the plan to scout south to a warehouse Daryl and his group had discovered on their way to Alexandria. It was about a hundred miles away, no mean feat for one day. They had planned ahead for the eventuality of not making it back before dark and having to hunker down somewhere, but none of them really wanted to let it come to that. Even Daryl wasn't keen on being caught outside. He knew Rick would worry himself half to death.

Daryl kept to himself, remembering Glenn's warning to steer clear of Aiden. He felt even less like talking than usual anyway, and had to use all his willpower not to give in to the sickness the car journey was making a hundred times worse.

They ran into trouble around lunchtime. As they crested a small hill they suddenly found themselves faced with the biggest walker herd Daryl could ever remember seeing. They were still a good mile or so away, and from their vantage point could see the herd stretch across the entire valley in front of them. The two-way radio on the dashboard in front of Daryl crackled. Glenn was driving their car, a large SUV, which he and Daryl shared with Tara and Abe in the back.

"Holy shit," came Aiden's voice over the speaker. Glenn took the radio and pressed a button. "We'll have to find another way," he said.

"No argument there." Aiden's sarcasm was evident even through the crackly connection. Glenn rolled his eyes in Daryl's direction and pressed the button again. "Backing up."

They turned around and retraced their steps. After trying all possible routes they could find on their maps in a radius of thirty miles they had still not found the end of this enormous herd. The walkers didn't seem to be heading in the direction of Alexandria, but right that moment this seemed only small compensation for the loss of time and fuel.

When they stopped for what felt the twentieth time to pore over their maps and plan their next move tempers were running high. Daryl remained in the background. The endless driving had worsened his headache and he had to concentrate hard on just walking in a straight line.

Suddenly he became aware of Glenn's raised voice. "This is insane, Aiden. We can't just keep going round this thing all day. For all we know it'd take days. We'd be much better off going home and continuing our normal runs for a while. Then in a month or so we can come back. I bet they'll have moved off by then."

Aiden scoffed. "I had no idea you survivors could be such pussies," he spat. Glenn's voice was terse. "No, we aren't. But we're not as big a bunch of fuck-heads as you, cowering behind your wall."

Aiden lunged for Glenn. Daryl was only dimly aware that he had started to move towards them. He pulled Aiden off Glenn without much effort and threw him on the ground. Even Aiden's military training was nothing compared to the strength Daryl's people had all developed through sheer necessity. Daryl went after Aiden, the adrenaline temporarily blanking out the pain behind his eyes.

He didn't even land half a dozen punches before Glenn managed to pull him back. "No, Daryl, it's not worth it. Come on…" He dragged Daryl back to the car, saying over his shoulder, "We're heading back now. You do what you want, but I am not going to explain this to your mother!"

Daryl let himself be led off by Glenn without a fight, his breathing heavy. His head was swimming now, his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton wool. He was certain that he would have puked if he'd had anything to eat that day.

When they got back to the car Tara looked at Daryl with concern. "Are you all right? You are white as a sheet." She motioned to Abraham. "Go and sit in the front, Abe. Daryl, come and stretch out some in the back." She led him to the rear door of the car and helped him climb into the SUV.

Tara brought round a blanket from the boot and draped it over Daryl, then clambered in herself. She handed him a bottle of water and he took a few grateful sips.

"Thanks." He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "Try and get some sleep, man," Tara said and patted him on the shoulder. And indeed, Daryl fell asleep. Now the motion of the car didn't make him feel sick, and the drowsiness finally led to some much needed rest.

They got back to the safe zone when the sun was just setting. Daryl had woken up about half an hour before they arrived. His head was still sore, but the nausea had abated somewhat.

None of them spoke much. It had been a wasted day, and everyone felt low. Aiden hardly glanced at their group and didn't say anything when they finally got back through the gate and parked the cars. Glenn looked at the other three from their group, still standing by their car. "Go home now, we'll get together soon and decide what to do. With…" he hesitated, "all of this."

Daryl took his leave from the others and walked back to the house. He was in a dark mood and kept flexing his right hand with which he had punched Aiden in the face. As he neared the house he noticed movement against the outer wall to his left. He froze, then, realizing what he was seeing, he headed towards the wall.

Carl was just climbing down the last few of the sticks in the makeshift ladder wedged behind one of the wall posts. The girl, Enid, stood on the ground, and she spotted Daryl first. She took one frightened look at him and bolted. Daryl grabbed Carl by the shoulder when he reached the ground.

"What. Did. I. Tell. Ya?" he snarled. Carl shook off Daryl's hand. "Leave me alone, it's none of your business."

"It is my damn business. If I tell your father…"

"What? Do you think just because you're his bitch makes you the boss of me?" Carl laughed. "You're pathetic, Daryl," he spat.

Daryl had Carl pinned against the wall before he knew what he was doing.

"Wha' did ya jus' call me?"

"Daryl!" The sound of Rick's voice behind them was like a gunshot. "Let Carl go, now." Daryl's head whipped around and he flinched away from Carl as if scalded.

"You," Rick said, adjusting Judith in his arms and pointing at Carl. "Your room, now." Carl looked for a second as if he was going to answer back, but then just scarpered in the direction of their house.

Rick stared at Daryl. Shifting Judith onto his hip he advanced on him until he was mere inches away. "Never, ever lay hands on my son again!" Daryl felt hot anger bubble in him. He'd had enough of it, of being everybody's pawn, the butt of all their jokes.

"He called me a…," but Rick cut him off. "I don't care what he calls you. He's a bratty teenager and half your size. This is not acceptable. If it happens again, Daryl, you're out."

Daryl would have liked to shove Rick off him and just walk away, never looking back. But instead all his energy seemed to evaporate. It was true what Carl had said. He was pathetic, and Rick's bitch. He felt so tired all of a sudden, he just wanted to curl up and go to sleep.

"Come on." Rick's hand on Daryl's arm was not gentle like usual. Daryl flinched. He deserved this, he definitely did. They walked back to the house, not speaking.

Once inside Daryl went right upstairs. Rick didn't try to hold him back, or speak to him. He was still furious. He knew his friend was not well, but that didn't give him the right to attack his son. Carl had done something stupid going over the wall, but Rick knew that couldn't have been the reason for Daryl's behavior.

Whatever Carl had said to Daryl it must have been awful or Daryl wouldn't have reacted like this. Rick put Judith in her high chair and paced the room. He rubbed his tired eyes. What was he going to do with Daryl?

Rick thought that back in the world Before Daryl should have been seeing a psychiatrist. Rick felt out of his depth, but he knew they were unlikely to find the kind of professional help Daryl needed in _this_ world so he, Rick, would just have to do his best.

Feeling guilty for how he'd treated the other man he picked up Judith and went up the stairs. Daryl wasn't in their bedroom so he put Judith in her cot and checked the other bedroom, which was also empty.

Rick heard the shower coming on in the bathroom off the hall. He walked over to the door and took a deep breath. He had to make this good again, Daryl was going through enough already. He knocked on the door.

"Daryl, we need to talk."

There was no sound for a moment, then, "Go 'way." Daryl's voice didn't seem right. Rick thought it sounded like Daryl was in pain. What was going on? Deciding that this was no time for misplaced discretion Rick turned the doorknob. He was not prepared for what he saw when the door swung open.

"What the..."

Daryl was hunched on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest. He was clad only in his boxer shorts, all his other clothes lay crumpled in the middle of the small room. There was blood all around Daryl on the tiles. It kept running from fresh cuts on both ankles and his thighs just below the shorts, which were also soaked with blood.

Rick didn't hesitate for more than a second. Stepping over the clothes, he first turned off the shower, then crouched next to Daryl who flinched away. "Tol' you, go 'way," he said again in a slurred voice. Rick ignored this. He carefully extracted the razor blade from Daryl's hand and threw it in the bin. Then he took Daryl's chin firmly in one hand and forced the other man to look him in the eyes. Daryl's gaze was glassy and unfocused.

"No," he told Daryl. "I am not going away. I am going to help you clean up, and then I'll help you get better."

Rick looked again at the cuts on Daryl's legs. Some were deep, and he thought he could make out half healed ones on the ankles, too. There was no time to lose, the pool of blood was growing rapidly around them. Rick got up. He had seen a first aid kit in the hall closet a few days ago, and he went for it now.

When Rick got back to the bathroom Daryl was trying to get up. His movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, and he wasn't making much progress on the floor that was now slippery with blood. Rick put the first aid kit down and went to help Daryl up. He guided him slowly over to the toilet, closed the lid and sat Daryl down. Then Rick dressed his wounds.

Daryl flinched a few times as Daryl applied antiseptic and sterile dressings, but he did not fight him. Rick bandaged both ankles quite tightly. There were many cuts here and they were bleeding profusely. The cuts on Daryl's thighs were deeper, and Rick wasn't sure whether they wouldn't need stitches. He'd have to see about that tomorrow. He knew that there was no way he could get Daryl to a doctor now without involving lots of people who didn't need to know about this.

Rick applied antiseptic to Daryl's thighs and was relieved to see that the bleeding here was now letting up. He put bandages tightly on these cuts too, which made Daryl bite his lip. The most pressing work done Rick looked around the bathroom. There was blood on many surfaces now, and on the walls from where Daryl had tried to steady himself.

He looked back at Daryl, who was sitting slumped over, staring at the opposite wall. His first priority had to be to get Daryl into bed, so Rick straightened up. "Let's get you out of here," he almost whispered. Daryl let himself be helped to his feet without resistance, and Rick steered him out of the bathroom. He belatedly realized that both of their feet were bloody. Sod it, he thought.

In the bedroom Rick helped Daryl out of the bloodstained boxer shorts and into a fresh pair and made sure he was as comfortable as he could make him on their bed before returning to the bathroom to clean up the blood. He didn't think Carl had to be subjected to this sight if he came in here during the night, even if he was used to much worse. And anyway, awkward questions about what was wrong with Daryl was not really something Rick needed now from his son.

When he returned to their bedroom Daryl was lying in the same position as before. His eyes were open but he just seemed to be staring at the ceiling. Rick closed the door and switched off the ceiling light. Now the room was illuminated only by the bedside lamp on his side of the bed.

Rick lay down next to Daryl and propped himself onto his left side. He didn't know exactly what he was going to do but he knew it had to be as unthreatening as possible. He put his right hand on Daryl's right arm and remained still for several minutes. When Daryl made no move to shrug him off Rick began to stroke him ever so slightly.

Daryl did not flinch now, but he didn't do much else, either. However, after a few minutes he seemed to relax somewhat. His hands, which had been balled into fists, unclenched, and he closed his eyes. Rick saw a single tear escape from under his lashes.

"Lie on your side," Rick whispered, guiding Daryl gently over onto his left. Daryl did as he was told, turning his back towards Rick. Moving his legs was awkward and must have hurt him some, because Rick could hear the breath hitch in Daryl's throat a couple of time.

He was still covered in blood here and there, but Rick didn't think that was a priority now. Rick looked at the scars on Daryl's back. He had grown almost used to seeing them over the years outside, catching a glance of the other man's naked body now and then when they showered or changed in close proximity.

Seeing the scars up close now made Rick angry, though. The man who had caused them was long dead, but Rick would have gladly resurrected that particular corpse, just to have the pleasure of killing him again. The scars covered all of Daryl's back. In some places they were almost faded, in others they had permanently created ridges and welts on the skin. Rick put his hand gently on a particularly prominent scar right beneath Daryl's shoulder blade.

"Is this the reason you started hurting yourself?" he asked. Rick thought he saw a small dip from Daryl's head. "And did he hurt you in other ways, too?" To this Daryl made a choked noise into his pillow, which Rick realized was a sob. Rick's heart clenched, and so did his left fist. His right hand, however, stayed on Daryl's back, unmoving.

That bastard. No wonder Daryl was in such a state. He must have suppressed the memories for all the years he lived in the unhealthy company of his brother. And now, after the horrors they had been through, this new and outwardly unthreatening environment had triggered something in him. Daryl had felt trapped, and like a caged animal he had seen no other release than hurting himself.

This had to stop. Rick started stroking Daryl's back in slow, soothing movements. "You don't have to do this anymore, Daryl. I am here now, I will make sure nobody can hurt you ever again. We will make this work, I promise." More tension seemed to leave Daryl's muscles. His shoulders started shaking and after a moment Rick realized he was crying.

"Hey," he said. "Shhh, come here." He turned Daryl onto his back and moved closer to him. Daryl looked at him, his face streaked with tears, his blue eyes full of despair.

"Nobody... can... make... it... work...," he whispered quietly. And with another sob he turned over onto his right and Rick took him into his arms.

"Daryl, we can try. We will." Rick hardly knew what he was saying, he just wanted to get through to his friend, his brother, make him understand that he no longer was alone with this.

Rick could feel Daryl shaking against him, and his tears soaked his shirt. He held him, rocking them both slightly and stroking the other man's back until Daryl fell asleep. Rick stayed awake for a long time, mulling it all over in his head. Finally he too dropped off.

When Rick woke up the next morning Daryl was gone.

Rick frantically searched the house. Daryl wasn't in either of the bathrooms, or the spare bedroom. He wasn't downstairs, but his crossbow was in its usual place, leaning just inside the front door. It was still early, hardly after daybreak, but Rick couldn't wait. He went into Carl's room and carefully shook his son awake.

"Carl, wake up. I need to go out, can you watch Judith." Carl rubbed his eyes. "Whas'up?" he asked groggily.

"Daryl's gone."

Rick didn't wait for Carl to say anything else. He returned to his bedroom and started pulling on his jeans. He noticed there were bloodstains on the sheets on Daryl's side, and he quickly pulled the blankets up, just as Carl came into the room and went over to Judith's cot.

"I'll take her, dad, don't worry. What happened?" Rick was just pulling his revolver from the holster he had hung up with his work jacket and checked the chamber. "We'll talk later, Carl. I have to get going." He rummaged in a dresser for more bullets.

Why did he have such a bad feeling about this? Maybe Daryl had just had trouble sleeping again, like Rick had suspected for the last week or so. Maybe he had gone for a walk, or even to visit Carol. Maybe he felt he'd better be able to talk to a woman about this.

But Rick didn't think so. And why was the crossbow still here? Daryl didn't always carry it with him now, especially when he went out with Judith, or when he knew Rick had his weapon. But going out at night on his own Rick found it hard to fathom that he'd leave the crossbow behind if his head was in the right place.

And that was it. Daryl's head certainly wasn't in the right place, Rick thought while pulling on his shoes and finding a jacket in the closet. The days had turned markedly cooler recently. Fall wasn't far away. With a quick look at Judith in her cot and a squeeze to Carl's shoulder Rick strode out of the room and down the stairs.

He let himself out of the house, already making plans. He'd go round to Carol's first. If anyone knew what Daryl was planning it'd be her or Michonne. But Rick wasn't hopeful. He didn't think Daryl would want to be around anyone right now. Still, he had to check. And if he wasn't anywhere to be found Rick knew the others would want to help look for him outside. Rick was sure that Daryl had gone over the wall, and the thought made his insides feel heavy.

When he got to the girls' house his intuition proved to be correct. Daryl wasn't there, and none of the women had seen him. "He had a fight with Aiden yesterday when we were on that run," Tara said. She frowned at Rick. "He seemed quite unwell, almost like he was on drugs. He was really shaky and pale after he punched Aiden. I thought for a moment he was going to pass out. Now that I think about it he was real quiet all day, even for him." She bit her lip. "None of us paid proper attention, I think, especially after that fucking herd cut us off."

Rick looked at her. "I never got round to asking him last night how the run had gone. There was a large herd, you say?" Tara nodded. "We couldn't get through, so eventually we turned back. Aiden wanted to keep going, and he and Glenn started to argue. That's when Daryl knocked Aiden on his ass."

Rick's mind was working fast. "You said you thought he acted like he was on drugs? Daryl, I mean?"

"Yeah, his eyes were all glassy and he seemed out of it. When I was at the police academy they used to show us footage of people who had taken drugs, so we could see how someone behaved after getting high. Daryl seemed a lot like the people in those videos when they had taken narcotics."

Rick cursed himself silently. Why hadn't he put two and two together? He had seen the glassy eyes on Daryl the other night. He was sure that this must be the explanation for Daryl's erratic behavior recently. It had just been so damn hard to spot, what with Daryl being so introverted. No time for musing now, though.

"We need to find him." He looked at the women who had now all clustered around him in their living room. "Tara, thank you. Do you think you can help me organize a search?"

Carol spoke up. "We will all go. No," she forestalled the protest Rick was about to voice. "Daryl is family. We have stuck together for this long, we'll not stop now." Rick looked at Michonne and Sasha, who both nodded.

"Ok, if you're sure. Tara, you go round to Abraham. We could do with his help." Tara nodded. "Carol, go to Deanna, tell her where we're going." He looked at Carol who had just holstered her weapon.

"Got it," she said. Rick added, "The rest of you, come with me to Maggie and Glenn's. Everyone, meet us there in fifteen minutes. They are closest to the gate."

Carol was the last to arrive at the condo Maggie and Glenn shared. "I've told Deanna. She asked if we needed any help, but I said no. I didn't think one of the Alexandrians finding Daryl before us would go down with him too well." Rick was sure she had a point. "But Deanna sent these." Carol had given Rick three police-issue radios, and three maps of the local area.

Abraham had come at once with Tara, and so had Rosita. Eugene had not come with them. "But he said he'd go round to get Noah and Gabriel, and take them to your house," Rosita had told Rick, putting a hand sympathetically on his arm. "I know you're worried, but we'll find him, I am sure of it."

Rick hadn't replied. He wasn't at all sure they would find Daryl, if Daryl didn't want to be found. He was a much better tracker than any of them, and knew perfectly how to disappear without a trace. Rick didn't like the implication of this thought at all. If they found him, that would mean Daryl wanted them to, and if that was the case Rick could only think of one reason why Daryl had gone over the wall.

Pushing these thoughts away Rick raised his voice slightly. "Listen up, everyone! We have three radios, and three groups will work well with our number. Glenn, Abe," he gave them a radio each. "You lead. Michonne and Carol, you come with me?" They both nodded. Glenn took Maggie and Sasha, and Abraham went with Rosita and Tara.

They consulted the maps and quickly agreed on the search territory for each group. Before they set off Rick addressed them again. "If any of you find Daryl, or get into trouble, call in, all right? And," he cleared his throat. "Thank you for offering your help." Unable to say anything else Rick turned around and led the way. Aiden let them out of the gate, and for once even he looked sympathetic.

They split up right outside the gate, Rick, Carol and Michonne heading south into the undergrowth. They had all agreed that Daryl was most likely to head into the forest, which seemed to be where he was most comfortable.

"How do you think he got out of Alexandria?" Carol asked Rick as she fell into step beside him.

"Carl and his friend Enid have taken to going over the wall with a makeshift ladder. They put sticks between a post and the wall and climb over that way. Daryl must've done something similar." Rick felt briefly angry with Carl for giving Daryl the idea, but immediately realized that Daryl didn't need any inspiration to come up with the same solution. Of all of them he would be the best at escaping a place he didn't want to be.

Rick blamed himself. Why hadn't he realized how bad Daryl's condition had become? How could he have missed the drug abuse, if Tara was right (and he was convinced she was)? If he had spotted sooner how desperate his friend had felt, he could have helped him. Or could he?

The truth was, Rick didn't know any more if any of them would have been really equipped to help Daryl. In the world before, yes, something could have been done. But now, without hospitals and psychiatrists and specialist who had experience in helping victims of abuse, Rick wasn't sure anything they could have thought of would have been enough.

Daryl had been all right while they were outside, where he felt useful. Even the prison had been okay because there had been all these people who depended on him and his skills. But now, in the relative safety and comfort of their new home, all Daryl had had was himself and his miserable past, and nothing to keep it at bay.

He had changed so much for the better since they had first met that Rick hadn't realized how much of this had had to do with the situation they were in. Before, Daryl had been nothing, and had not expected anything. He'd followed around his brother without aim or much thought.

With a sick feeling Rick realized how much he himself had replaced Merle in that role. Daryl had followed him instead, following all orders, giving his all for the group without expecting or accepting any credit.

And Rick had let him, had taken Daryl for granted, almost, until now. He hadn't realized that Daryl would never take from the group, and from him, what he needed, what was vital for his survival. He had given his all for his people, but they had not stepped up, had not even noticed that there were things he needed but couldn't ask for.

Rick pressed on, determined to do the right thing for Daryl, finally, and convinced that he was already too late.

When they found him, Rick's premonition turned out to be accurate. It didn't take them as long as they had expected, because Rick had been right with another hunch, too.

Before they had arrived at Alexandria Rick had taken Daryl and Carol aside and they had gone down into the woods a ways. From the road Rick had spotted a building behind the trees, and that's where they had headed. After explaining what he wanted them to do each of them had buried one of their weapons near the house. Just in case.

So far they hadn't had to retrieve the weapons, so they hadn't been back here. Rick had figured that if Daryl wanted them to find him he'd come to an obvious place, and around here nothing had much meaning for them yet, so this was the most likely choice.

Daryl wasn't inside the ramshackle building. He was slumped against a tree about twenty yards away. Carol spotted him before Rick did, when they were about a hundred yards from him. She let out a gasp, and Rick, wheeling round and realizing what he was seeing felt like someone had stabbed him in the gut, slowly twisting the knife. Then his legs started moving of their own accord and he had dropped down at Daryl's side before Carol and Michonne could take more than a couple of steps.

"No," Rick heard someone mutter, only half realizing it was himself. "No, no… Daryl!"

Daryl's eyes were closed and it seemed a huge effort for him to open them now. His gaze was glassy from the fever so obviously coursing through his body. "Rick…" His voice was hardly even a whisper.

Rick fumbled for his water bottle. He put an arm behind Daryl's shoulders and helped him into a half sitting position. He put the bottle to Daryl's mouth, who drank a few sips. The effort seemed to exhaust him and he leaned back against the tree.

As Rick was supporting Daryl he caught sight of the blood soaking his shirt on his right shoulder and neck. Pulling away the fabric Rick uncovered a large, jagged-looking bite. He looked back at Carol and Michonne who had been hanging back, and now looked rooted to the spot. Carol's hand flew to her mouth and she couldn't suppress a sob. Michonne looked away, tears sparkling in her eyes.

Only now did Rick spot the dead walkers. One was only a couple of feet away just behind Daryl, and Rick could see first two, then three others sprawled near the house. It seemed that, even though Daryl had come out here to die, he had grappled with the decision, and killed the walkers he himself had sought out. Rick didn't have the heart to ask Daryl whether, in the end, the bite hadn't been an accident after all.

Rick looked back at the man lying prone in front of him. "Why, Daryl? Why? I was going to help you, we all were…"

Daryl looked at Rick out of half-closed eyes. "Tol' you, nobody can help. Now yer free, can concentrate on jus' livin'. On Carl, and Lil Asskicker…" He coughed weakly. Tears were rolling down Daryl's cheeks now. He seemed to want to lift a hand, maybe to wipe them away, but he didn't have the strength. Rick realized he was slipping away fast.

With a sob of his own Rick pulled Daryl carefully into his lap. His skin was radiating heat like a furnace. "I am sorry, brother. I should have seen how much you were hurting…" With effort Daryl managed to lift his right hand and dropped it heavily on Rick's. "'S… not your… fault. 'S mine. Dixons're just… scum."

Rick looked down at Daryl and a wave of despair washed over him. Even now he seemed incapable of making Daryl understand, make him see how much he meant to them. Meant to Rick.

Rick gripped Daryl's hand with his left and smoothed away the strands of hair that were clinging to his sweaty forehead with the other. Daryl's eyes were closed now, and his breathing was shallow and uneven. Rick knew that it was almost over.

"I love you, man," he whispered. "Don't leave me, please…"

But Daryl couldn't hear him anymore.

Carol handed Rick her knife. She had offered to do it, but Rick had shook his head. He held Daryl throughout it, and even when it was over he didn't let go of him for a long time. He kept stroking his hair, thinking of all the times when he should have done this in the last few weeks. Of all the things he'd never said.

The others had had arrived by then; Michonne had called them on the radio. Abraham went into the house and came back with a shovel. They wordlessly set to work. None of them had to say it, but they all knew that Daryl wouldn't have wanted to be buried behind walls. They found a small clearing nearby, green and peaceful.

When the last shovel of earth had been heaped onto the mound that now covered his brother Rick had looked up at the sky, which was blue and innocent above them. He had never felt more inadequate, more alone, and he knew that this feeling would stay with him for the rest of his life.


End file.
